


I'm Going Back To The Start

by imawalkingtravesty



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic Tony Stark, Anxious Tony Stark, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Depressed Tony Stark, Gen, Happy Hogan is a Good Bro, Hungover Tony Stark, Hurt Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) is a Good Bro, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Oblivious Steve Rogers, One Shot, Panic Attacks, Pepper Potts Is a Good Bro, Protective James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Steve Rogers is a dick, Sunglasses, Tony Stark Angst, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Is Not Helping, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 09:11:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20850992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imawalkingtravesty/pseuds/imawalkingtravesty
Summary: “Why were you drinking?”"I’m an alcoholic, Brucie bear. It’s what we do."In which Tony Stark wakes up hungover and his day goes from bad to worse.





	I'm Going Back To The Start

Tony woke up with a splitting headache.

That wasn’t new. He always drank too much at those banquets anyway, and they happened quite often (they were the only type of work/social event he would attend without too much haggling from Pepper). So he rolled over, spotted a tablet of aspirin on his bedside table (courtesy of Pepper, she never seemed to stop taking care of him) and swallowed it with a quick gulp of water. He had an actual important, mandatory meeting today and couldn’t afford to just lie in bed and possibly fall asleep again, so he swung his legs over the side of his bed and stretched, getting ready to start the day.

JARVIS turned on the lights, and Tony stumbled around, immediately slamming his eyes shut to block out the blinding light. Behind his eyelids were still too bright and pink for him, and he waved his hand in the general direction of a speaker. “Little softer on the lights, will you, JARVIS?” Tony said, using his other hand to cover his eyes as the lights dimmed again.

“My apologies, sir,” the AI answered. “You have a meeting at ten o’clock this morning, Mr Hogan will arrive shortly. It is eight fifty-four, the weather will be bright and sunny, with a high of seventy-eight degrees at thirteen o’clock and a low of sixty degrees tonight at twenty-one o’clock.”

“Quiet it down,” Tony said, fumbling for the bathroom doorknob. He flicked on the light switch and immediately winced as the light sent a sharp jab of pain into his skull. Everything was irritating. It was too bright, too loud, too stimulating.

He ended up brushing his teeth and getting ready with his sunglasses on, deciding to just resort to his usual solution to his hangover headaches; a nice pair of shades.

They were his special sunglasses; they were mini computers and they had a microphone so that he could speak to JARVIS, but unfortunately he hadn’t implanted hearing devices in them yet so JARVIS couldn’t talk to him. But they were good enough, they blocked the light (he could adjust the settings) and prevented anyone from seeing how heavy his eye bags had gotten. He was proud of them, honestly.

He headed down for a quick bite to eat before Happy picked him up, and was surprised to see Cap, Clint and Brucie waiting for their own breakfasts. The toaster was occupied, and by the impatient look on Steve’s face there was a line up, so Tony grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and called it his breakfast. He started up the coffee machine, grabbed his mug from the cupboard and waited for the water to heat up.

“Why’ve you got sunglasses?” Clint asked, popping his sixth slice of bread into the toaster. Tony didn’t even think that he was actually planning on eating the toast, and just wanted to get Steve annoyed.

Tony shrugged, preferring not to answer the question. The coffee maker made a weird choking/sputtering noise and dark brown liquid poured out into the mug.

“You know, it’s rude to wear them indoors,” Steve supplied, leaning against the counter top as it was clear that Clint wouldn’t be done with the toaster anytime soon.

“It’s rude to comment on people’s fashion choices, yet here we are,” Tony quipped back, watching as the last drops of coffee made a ripple in the already full mug. 

“I’m just saying,” Steve frowned. “Why do you have to be so defensive all the time?” 

“Because people like you roam the world,” Tony retorted, grabbing his mug and taking a careful sip of the burning liquid. 

“That was uncalled for,” Steve answered, getting irritated. 

“It’s true,” Tony said simply, turning his back to the conversation, feeling his headache creep back up to a nine on the pain scale. He just wanted to leave, climb into the car with Happy, who was paid not to ask questions. Happy was a good guy. There weren’t enough of those.

“Stark. Are you hungover?” Steve asked, his tone of voice serious.

Tony didn’t answer, but stopped in his tracks. Was it that obvious? Now that he thought about it, he did think that wearing sunglasses indoors was a big hint, along with the wincing whenever someone talked. Hopefully they were all naive at the meeting, if the headache continued he’d have to wear it for then.

Steve abandoned the queue at the toaster, leaving his plate of bread on the counter, and walked out with his hands up, clearly done with Tony’s nonsense. Tony sighed, rubbing at his temples as the toaster pinged and the pain peaked. Clint plucked the last slice of toast from the toaster, finally leaving, deciding that since Steve left there was no point in being annoying.

Bruce finally stepped in, popping a slice of bread into the toaster. Tony should really look into getting something more efficient, or at least another one, then there wouldn’t be the queues at breakfast at therefore less chances for Clint to feel full of himself. “Why were you drinking?” Bruce asked, saying his first words to Tony that morning, putting a hand on his shoulder.

The touch was the last straw. Tony felt like his insides were shaken up like a spray paint can, and he quickly pulled himself out of Bruce’s grip. He poured the rest of his coffee down the drain, not really feeling too great.

“I’m an alcoholic, Brucie bear. It’s what we do,” Tony said, and bit his tongue to keep his stomach under control. 

Tony quickly made his way to the washroom, and locked the door behind him. He threw his sunglasses on the counter, wincing when the bright lights hit his retinas, and he bent over the toilet and threw up. His head just hurt so much, and it was pounding, and there were spikes drilling into his brain with spikes coming out of those spikes and there were jackhammers in his ears, making everything so loud and sensitive, and there was too much.

Tony spat into the toilet twice, flushing it quickly as to not look at his mess. He took several deep breaths, rinsed his mouth at the sink, threw on his sunglasses and left the washroom as he had entered it. 

\--

Pepper waited by the entrance for Tony, anxiously ringing her hands. There had been traffic, a car accident ahead of them, so they were a bit later than expected. Tony greeted her with a smile, the sunglasses still on his face.

He was feeling considerably better after puking up much of his alcohol intake. The long car ride in the calm environment helped as well (Happy had a few strong words to say about the traffic but that was it), and now he was feeling more anxious than anything. He hadn’t been to a meeting in a while, and didn’t quite remember what to expect out of the company that they were trying to buy to branch off into hydroelectricity. It had been a while before he’d tried to buy something that big, and just had to trust his gut when it came to the negotiating. 

(His gut was messed up, that was the problem, between the vomiting and the caffeine-fueled anxiety.)

“Headache?” Pepper asked, raising an eyebrow at the sunglasses blocking Tony’s eyes from her. She tried to reach up to take them off but he moved out of the way, placing a secure hand on the arm of the glasses.

“No, just bright in here,” Tony said, flashing her a smile. Whether it was one of his press smiles or one of his genuine smiles, Pepper couldn’t tell, as the glasses blocked her from seeing the expression in his eyes.

Pepper led him into a conference room, and moved behind his chair. The other company was already there, along with a few other representatives from Stark Industries. Pepper hissed at Tony to take off the sunglasses, but Tony waved her off. 

“Good morning,” Tony’s eyes darted down to the lanyard hanging off of the man’s neck. “Monsieur Mathon.”

“Good morning, Monsieur Stark,” the man said with a thick french accent, putting his hand out to shake. Tony grasped it firmly, then sat down beside Pepper.

“Sunglasses,” she reminded him, an edge to her voice, but Tony didn’t answer.

As the meeting droned on, Tony read the file, with the giant ‘Hydro-Québec’ title at the top. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that something bad was going to happen, and trying to distract himself with the meeting just wasn’t working. He noticed one guy staring suspiciously at him, and Tony did a quick background check on the man. His name was Alexandre Lapine, and he was Jacques Mathon’s personal assistant, and nothing seemed too fishy in the public files, but still…

“Tony, for the last time; take off your sunglasses,” Pepper hissed quietly again, and Tony brought his hand up to the arm of his glasses, but he just couldn’t take them off.

He needed to know who everybody was. He needed to be able to do a check on the people, he needed to be able to know where everybody was at all times, and he just couldn’t explain the irrational fear that everybody was out to get him. Tony needed to know if someone was creeping up behind him, he needed to know these things. It also helped that because of the shaded lenses, nobody could see how much he was panicking.

Pepper didn’t seem to catch on; she just kept subtly glaring at him, and he couldn’t have Pepper mad at him. Pepper was the one, the most important person in his life, and she was his world. Tony felt his heart plummet when he realized that she was, truly, frustrated with his antics and ways. Why wouldn’t she be? All Tony did was act irritating and annoying and snarky and expected everybody to like him, it was about time she finally saw him for who he was. An idiot.

A small part of Tony knew that if he told Pepper that he was ten seconds away from having a panic attack she’d let up on the hints about his sunglasses, but that wasn’t who he was. Tony Stark was strong, and the power of denial and suppression can get him through everything.

Tony felt himself tear up for no absolute reason other than the fact that Pepper was mad at him and he knew he had to get out of there quick, even with the shades blocking the red-rimmed eyes.

“On peut prendre une, uh, une suspension de cette réunion?” he asked, standing up quickly.

The rest of the people were surprised at the request, as the meeting had only been going on for twenty minutes, but agreed. Pepper sighed audibly, and Tony booked it out of there and into a fancy washroom, where he took off his glasses and leaned heavily on the counter.

Tony felt anger bubbling up in his gut, because why couldn’t he take off his sunglasses? He felt like they were stuck to him whenever he didn’t want to take them off, whenever he didn’t feel a hundred percent safe. It was like they were glued to him, and wearing them only made people mad, and he knew it was rude to wear them in front of others but he just couldn’t take them off. He needed to keep them on. It was like a security blanket.

God, he was pathetic. A security blanket. How low could he get? It was stupid, but he just didn’t feel safe without his sunglasses. It was like he was a child again, always needing to be able to see and observe without drawing attention, always needing to get a read on anyone that entered his line of sight. It was dumb, but he just couldn’t take them off. He still felt the need to hide himself. 

Tony reached up and drew a hand back, then slammed his fist forward into the mirror, shattering it and getting glass shards everywhere. Sure, the anger mostly dissipated, but it was replaced with pain and regret and he cradled his fist gently, blood pouring down from his knuckles and little bits of glass cutting into his skin.

He dug into his pockets to retrieve his wallet with his good hand, fished out some cash, and left it on the counter. He texted Happy from his computerized glasses (another perk, even though it was still stupidstupidstupid), and wrapped his hand up the best he could using toilet paper. 

Happy texted to let him know that he was outside and Tony climbed into the car, hiding his injured and throbbing hand in his jacket pocket.

“Why did you leave early?” Happy asked, seeing that Ms Potts wasn’t with him.

“It was boring,” Tony answered plainly.

Happy didn’t question because Tony Stark does what he wants, and if he wanted to leave a meeting early, then so be it.

“Do you want the window screen up?” Happy asked instead.

“Why?”

“You’re wearing sunglasses in here, and the screen will block the light, so-”

It’s all good,” Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose under the glasses.

“You alright, Boss?”

“Peachy. Just drive and don’t ask questions.”

\--

Clint’s was playing Mario Kart against JARVIS when Tony arrived.

“Sunglasses? Still? Must’ve been some night,” he teased, glancing away from the screen for a split second to see Tony’s reaction. He fell off a cliff doing so, and frankly, Tony thought he deserved it as JARVIS and few other CPU’s passed him.

“Fuck you,” Tony spat, and turned around and walked out without getting the coffee he had originally planned on getting.

He shut himself in his workshop, turning the music up, planning on working off all of the frustration. The sunglasses came off, and he was safe, and the glass walls blacked out to make sure nobody could enter, and he was alright. His hand still throbbed even though Happy had taken notice and removed all of the glass he could get with a pair of tweezers, so it was still significantly harder to work with his hand, but it was fine. He was fine.

JARVIS told him that Pepper was calling, but Tony told him to ignore it. He didn’t need her yelling right now, right when he had finally gotten his eyes to shut up and stop crying. 

Bruce came down about an hour later, having been called by a worried Pepper, asking if he was alright because he abruptly left a meeting and now wasn’t answering his phone. Tony looked up when he got in, and immediately turned around in search of something.

“Pepper wants to know if you’re okay,” Bruce said carefully.

“I’m great,” Tony said, finally finding his sunglasses and putting them on quickly. He didn’t know how much his post-crying face had gone away, with the blotchy cheeks and nose and red-rimmed eyes.

Bruce shrugged and turned around, seeing there was no reason to be worried, just Tony in his natural habitat. Then he turned around, as if he had just realized something.

“Tony, were you smoking weed?” Bruce asked.

“What? Why? Is there a change in my posture? Personality? Am I more petulant than usual?” Tony joked, grinning, but it didn’t meet his eyes. Not that Bruce could see it, thanks to the sunglasses. Another thing they were great for.

“No, it’s just- I know you’re not hungover anymore considering you’re blasting your music, and I don’t know if your eyes are red, and-“

“Wait, are you serious?” Tony looked up. “Do you seriously think that low of me?”

Bruce looked down at his feet. “Why are you wearing sunglasses then?”

Tony took off the sunglasses, staring at Bruce dead in the eyes, praying that they weren’t so watery anymore.

“Your eyes are red, Tony.”

“Brucellosis. Think for a bit,” Tony sighed, rubbing his temples. “Think long and hard about what I’d be breathing in, if I was smoking pot.”

“I did, and I-“

“Now think about what’s in my fucking chest at this moment,” Tony snarked, pointing at his reactor. He sure did have a short temper today.

“Oh.”

“I physically cannot smoke,” he huffed, as if he was disappointed. Maybe he was. 

“Then why are your eyes red?” Bruce asked, and Tony replaced the sunglasses, feeling angry tears make their way to the front of his eyes.

“God- I don’t know, allergies? Pink eye? You’ve got a brain, use it, for God’s sake!” Tony turned around to face his work, not wanting anything to do with Bruce anymore. He turned a hologram around, but he couldn’t concentrate with the mad pounding in his chest, his eyes were blurry, and not with Bruce in the room. He should not be having this conversation with him right now, or anytime really.

There was silence, and then Bruce spoke. “Are you okay?”

“Am I?” Tony asked, but it was a rhetorical question. “I’m tired. People are always mad at me, I just want to drink something strong. You decide,” he spat out bitterly.

“Tony...”

“I want Rhodey. You’re no good at this,” Tony threw the sunglasses off on the table, deciding that there was no reason he should hide this time. Bruce knew.

“Would you like me to get him?” Bruce said hesitantly, anxious to get out before Tony got too mad and set off the big guy, and having the Hulk in a lab full of explosives was a very bad idea.

“Just go,” Tony said, leaning heavily on the table, his back facing Bruce. He was vaguely aware of his shoulders shaking, and then realized that his entire body was shaking. He clenched his hands to try and stop it, but as usual, it did nothing to help.

Bruce turned to leave, but just as he reached the door, Tony stopped him.

“What are you going to tell Pepper?” he asked in a small voice, all the anger gone.

“That you’re upset,” Bruce answered truthfully.

“Don’t.”

“I’ll tell her that you’re upset but coping?”

“That sounds like I’m drinking. Just tell her that I’m okay. A lie never hurt,” Tony shrugged.

“She’s your girlfriend, Tony.”

“That’s why, that’s why she can’t- she can’t know. She, she can’t know that I’m like this, that I can’t,” Tony cut himself off, his breath catching in his throat. “Oh, god.”

“Tony? You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just- just tell Pep that I’m, that I’m okay. And- and that I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Bruce asked, and his voice was much closer than before, and there was a hand on his shoulder, making all of Tony’s neck hairs jump up in surprise.

“Gah!” Tony yelled out breathlessly, jumping away from the hand, pushing it away, pushing himself away, just needed to be away from him and the arms and the touch and the everything-

“Hey, hey,” Bruce said, more cautious this time, his hand hovering inches above Tony’s shoulder. “Just try and breathe.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Tony huffed out a strangled breath, rubbing his hands over his face. He tried to clear his head, but his thoughts were too fast, too loud, and his hands were shaking, and everything was shaking, and his breath was rattling, and thanks to the stupid thing in his chest he could get a full breath in, and the fact that he couldn’t breathe made him panic more, and Bruce was freaking out which didn’t help, and he just wanted to pass out or something so that the pain in his chest would disappear, or could he die, that would be really great thanks-

“Tony? Tones?” a voice said from the door, and Tony nearly cried in relief. Bruce was awkward, Bruce didn’t know. But Rhodey, Rhodey was his friend, he was good, he was nice, he was comfy. He knew what Tony needed. He was great.

Tony turned around, and was met with Rhodey’s arms, gripping his shoulders. He let his legs give away and he dug his fingers into Rhodey’s shirt, holding onto him in any way possible, and Rhodey moved his hands so that they were supporting Tony by holding him up by his armpits. He breathed in Rhodey’s sent, and that was enough to stop him from spiraling even more, even though he was still trembling and it made Rhodey’s heart pang with sympathy.

“What happened?” Rhodey turned to face Bruce, his tone somewhat accusing even though it was clear that he was trying to mask it.

“I don’t know, he was asking me to tell Pepper that he was okay after she called when she was worried about him, and the next minute he was like this,” Bruce answered, running his hands through his hair.

“I’m, I’m okay,” Tony pressed, refusing to say otherwise.

“Tell Pepper that he’s upset, but he’s with me,” Rhodey answered. “Tell her not to worry.”

“I’m fine. Tell her, tell her that I’m great,” Tony said, still shaking, still out of breath.

“Go,” Rhodey answered, his tone demanding. Tony knew that Bruce would probably follow Rhodey’s instruction, but he was too grateful for Rhodey actually being here to get mad at him. 

Bruce left the lab, already calling someone on his phone. Tony slumped down, landing on the ground in front of Rhodey, and sat there, running his hands through his hair and clutching onto the neck of his shirt, tugging and loosening it. The worst of whatever had happened was over, but he was still shaky, still breathless, and his chest just hurt.

Rhodey sat down beside him. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Tony said, aiming for sounding annoyed, but it just came out broken and quiet. 

Rhodey just sat with him as the shaking slowly stopped, as the phone rang and Pepper’s caller ID came and faded out as it was ignored. Tony gathered himself up, wiping the tears from his eyes with his sleeve, and took a deep breath. He was alright. Just today was a touchy day, always-on-edge day, starting with a hangover and by the way he was really craving a drink right now, he would start the next day with another one. It was an endless cycle, of drinking, and waking up miserable, needing another drink, waking up miserable, needing another drink, etc. 

“Wanna drink, Rhodey?” Tony asked, rubbing his temples, as if that would starve off the headache that would come the next day.

“Hell yeah, Tones,” Rhodey grinned, getting up and helping Tony up by his elbow.


End file.
